The woman shook her head, perplexed. “He was fine when we put him in the container.”
“You have specific medicine for this?” the general asked Brunner.
“Yes. It was in my bag. On the train.”
Nesterov once more looked back at the woman.
Her expression turned uncomfortable. “Our contact forgot to bring it when he delivered the doctor. I sent him back to get it, but there were already others at Brunner’s room so he had to leave it.”
The general turned back to Brunner. “And you have this now? This migraine?”
“Yes. For several hours.”
“We will see if we can find something in our infirmary for you.”
“Thank you.”
“How long do these spells usually last?”
Brunner rubbed his forehead. All this talking was intensifying the pain again. “Depends.”
“What’s the shortest?”
“I don’t know. Twelve hours, I guess.”
“And the longest?”
“I had one for four days once.”
The general smiled again, only this time it was tense. “Perhaps you should rest. We can talk later. Is there anything else you need?”
“Water?”
“I’ll have some brought in.”
And with that, the general and Snetkov left.
Brunner stared after them. Had his headache bought him a little time? Yes, he was keenly aware the end of his life was rapidly approaching, but he felt a sense of elation that he’d been able to extend his time, however briefly. Perhaps he could stretch it even further. Even if his migraine did go away, he could fake it for a while. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that.
He lay down.
Just a few extra days, that’s all I want, he thought, and closed his eyes.
Nesterov waited until they’d left the holding cell area before saying, “You didn’t know about this?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tiana said. “I had no idea. Like I said, he was fine when we put him in the box.”
“He never mentioned the possibility?”
“No. He only said he needed his bag. That it was important. He didn’t say why.”
“I am not waiting three days,” Nesterov said. “Do whatever it takes to get him clearheaded enough to talk. You have one hour.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Who spotted it?” Quinn asked.
He, Nate, and Daeng were lying prone in a gap between two boulders, looking down into the valley through their binoculars. About two hundred meters away was a small group of rocks, none larger than a small sofa. Most people would notice nothing unusual about them. Nate wouldn’t have, either, if he hadn’t scanned them with his glasses in thermal mode.
Quinn was now using the same function to look at the rocks. Heat flowed up from between two of the rocks on the left side, and dissipated almost right away. On hotter days, if anyone noticed it, the person would probably think the heat waves were generated by the rocks themselves. But it was a mild day, and rising heat was more than the rocks should be generating. Which meant something beneath was responsible.
Something like an entrance to an underground facility.
“Any signs of security around it?” Quinn asked.
“Nothing as far as we could see,” Nate replied.
“Could be a sensor or camera stashed in the rocks.”
“Could be.”
Quinn flicked his binoculars back to visual-light mode and turned them toward the other part of Nate and Daeng’s discovery. Running down from the ridge was a dry creek bed. It swerved back and forth a few times before passing within a dozen meters of the rock pile. It then went on beyond the rocks for almost a kilometer before petering out.
It wasn’t as deep as Quinn would have liked, but his first impression was it would be enough to prevent someone getting abreast of the rocks from being seen from the airfield.
“You found it,” Quinn said. “You want to check it out?”
Nate grinned. “Absolutely.”
Nate made his way along the creek bed mostly on his elbows and knees. There were a few spots, however, where the walls of the depression dropped so low he had to snake forward to remain hidden.
The desert did not lack life. Down at Nate’s level, he saw bugs scurrying around beneath the scattered bushes, and heard, though never spotted, larger creatures running away as he approached. His biggest worry was snakes. He didn’t have an Indiana Jones-level fear of them, but the idea of coming face to face with a set of fangs did not excite him. He had no idea if any snakes were out here, but the desert back home in California had them so there was no reason to think they weren’t here, too. Thankfully, if they were here, they seemed to have made themselves scarce. So far.
The dry creek bed came closest to the pile of rock as it circled around the formation and headed farther down into the valley. In other words, at a point in direct line of sight of the airfield. This meant if Nate didn’t want to reveal himself, he had to exit the bed when the rocks were between him and the base, doubling the amount of open ground he had to cover.
He crawled out of the wash and hurried to the formation in a crouch.
The rocks looked as if they’d been thrust into the air from somewhere deep below and had then dropped back to earth. Some of the boulders lay on top of others. Some leaned against one another. And a few smaller chunks were scattered off to the sides, like discarded extra pieces not needed for the final sculpture.
When Nate reached the formation, he snuck around the back, looking for the gap in the stones through which he’d seen the heat signature. His hope was it would be the way down to the hidden entrance. But what he found was a meter-long slit, no wider than his palm.
He peered through it. It was dark below, but not too dark to see the edge of something that looked manmade, half buried in the ground.
There had to be another way to get to it.
He searched the rocks, and soon started to think the passage he was looking for could only be reached on the side facing the airfield. He was saved from having to investigate that side when he discovered a dip in the ground next to the rocks that went under one of the boulders.
This presented another problem. Out here, under all this sun, there was a good chance the short tunnel also served as a burrow for desert creatures. Perhaps even snakes.
He looked around for a long stick he could use to sweep out the space, but none of the brush in the area was large enough to create anything longer than half a meter. He rolled a stone through the opening, hoping that would cause anything inside to make its presence known. Nothing happened.
He picked up a handful of sand and threw it hard under the boulder. When there was still no reaction, he relaxed a bit. It was unlikely he would run into anything larger than an insect. Not that a poisonous spider or a scorpion wouldn’t be a problem.
He cursed under his breath for letting those images into his mind.
Lowering himself onto the dirt, Nate worked his way under the rock. While there were signs of animals having been there, the tunnel was empty, not even a sand flea to be seen.
When he neared the end of the passageway, he peered into the space ahead, scanning for cameras or any other security measure. Not spotting any, he crawled out, and found himself in an area approximately a meter and a half square, with an average height just a bit lower than that. And sitting smack dab in the middle of the space was a steel-barred hatch, through which the heat had obviously passed. The hatch and the space were smaller than he’d anticipated, which made him think this was not an emergency exit, but only a vent.
He crawled up to the hatch. Normally he would have attached a gooseneck camera to his phone and eased the lens over the lip. But because of Danara, using his cell wasn’t an option. He had not arrived unprepared, though. He pulled out the mirror he’d taken from the first-aid kit, and eased it up and angled it so he could see through the bars on top of the hatch. Below the bars was a fan built into
the top of a vent.
He shifted the mirror around until he’d seen most of the space around the fan. No cameras there, either, but some kind of sensor was on the latch, which appeared to be locked. He didn’t find a keyhole or other way to release it, and guessed it was operated by someone on the base who would open the lock only when authorized personnel were at the vent.
Nate turned on his mic and described what he’d found. “Looks like it has a security device on it and a remote-controlled lock. If we can open it, I won’t be the one going down. It’s wide enough here at the top, but a little ways down it looks too narrow for me.”
“What about me?” Orlando asked. She was five feet nothing, and had the lean body of a long-distance runner.
“Hard to tell, but you’d probably fit.”
“I will do it,” Jar said. She was even smaller than Orlando.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “I don’t like the idea of you going down alone. We should keep looking for another way in.”
“That does not make sense,” Jar said. “We have a way in right now. The more information we gather, the better Dr. Brunner’s chances are, correct?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then I will do it.”
There was more back and forth, but in the end Quinn conceded.
“I’ll go to the vent with you,” he said. “Help Nate keep tabs on you.”
“I’ll go,” Orlando said.
“Did I miss a memo? Is it Defy Quinn Day?” he asked.
“Someone needs to deal with the sensor and lock,” she argued.
“Jar can do that before she goes down.”
“Sure, but they must be tied into the facility’s network. This might be my best chance to hack in.”
Ten minutes later, Nate was joined by Jar and Orlando. They had brought with them rope, a climbing harness, carabiners, a Glock 9mm with attachable suppressor, and a holster. While Orlando worked on neutralizing the security sensor and releasing the lock, Jar donned the underarm holster and slipped the pistol into it. Nate then helped her into the climbing harness. Even though it was size small, it hung loosely on her. She looked like a kid trying on her parents’ clothes for Halloween.
Nate adjusted it as best he could, with a few knots and a couple of the carabiners, until it was snug enough around her waist, thighs, and shoulders that she wouldn’t fall out of it. Probably.
He tugged on one of the straps. “How’s that feel?”
“Fine,” Jar said.
He held out the straps of the backpack containing the items Jar and Orlando thought she might need, and she put her arms through them. Last but not least, Nate attached a small cloth sack to the front of the harness with a carabiner. Inside were a couple dozen signal relays that Jar would disperse along her way like crumbs marking a trail, so there would be no interruptions in communication.
“Don’t do anything stupid while you’re down there,” Nate said.
“Why would I do something stupid?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You think I would do something stupid?”
“No. I…I just want you to be careful.”
“Oh.” She smiled ever so briefly. “I will be.”
“Thanks.”
They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then Nate broke away and looked at Orlando. “How’s it going?”
“I’m just…about…there,” she said.
As her fingers danced across the keyboard, Nate wondered if Danara was aware of what Orlando was doing. Everyone on the team still carried their cell phones, but they had all removed the batteries so the devices couldn’t be tracked. The mobiles were to be used in extreme emergencies only. Even then, since the others’ phones would be off, the user would have to call Misty. They couldn’t avoid using their computers, however, so if the disembodied voice was still tapped into their systems, it knew where they were every time Jar or Orlando had booted up one of the laptops.
Nate hated the idea of someone eavesdropping on them. But if Danara was indeed a friend of Dr. Brunner’s, then her goals and the team’s goals were in sync. Hopefully, if she did do something based on what she overheard, she wouldn’t screw anything up for them.
“Whoa,” Orlando said. “Look at this.”
Both Nate and Jar leaned in behind Orlando so they could see her laptop. The screen was filled with code. Nate might have been able to make sense of a small portion of it if he had an hour, but currently it all looked like gibberish to him.
“How did they get that?” Jar asked.
“Good question,” Orlando said.
Nate looked from one woman to the other. “What are you guys talking about?”
“The system security software,” Jar said.
“What about it?”
“They’re running CoPrime17,” Orlando said. “There are only a handful of NSA listening stations that use it. It’s state of the art.”
“State of the art?” Nate said. “So, does that mean you can’t break in?”
Orlando scoffed. “Of course it doesn’t mean that. I’ve done it before.”
“Me, too,” Jar said.
“My point is that no one else should have this,” Orlando said. “Give me a minute.”
It ended up taking her three, but Nate didn’t point that out.
“Misty’s info was right,” Orlando said. “This place is massive. There are a ton of sensor nodes…. Hmmm, they’re not using all of them, though.”
About thirty seconds later, Nate heard a thunk from the hatch.
“We’re in,” Orlando said.
Nate moved over to the hatch, and for the first time peered directly between the bars. “What about the fan?” he asked. “Can you turn it off?”
“Should be able to. Hold on.”
While she worked on that, he lifted the hatch out of the way. He then threaded the climbing rope around a few of the bars. Since they didn’t know what was at the bottom of the shaft, they couldn’t just drop a rope down and allow Jar to repel. Nate and Orlando would have to lower her. He tied a loop on the end of the rope that would be pointing into the shaft, hooked it onto a carabiner connected to Jar’s harness, and threaded the rope through several of the others. This would allow Jar to climb back up without any assistance, while pulling the rope up behind her.
A few moments later, the whine of the fan decreased. The apparatus was held in place by four quick-release nut-and-bolt combinations. Nate removed the nuts as the fan spun down, then after it stopped, he and Jar lifted it out of the way.
He shined a flashlight into the darkness. The duct went straight down for about five feet before continuing its descent at an angle, in the general direction of the airfield.
He turned to Jar, who had finished putting on her gloves. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“If you run into another fan, you’re not going to have room to try to remove it, so don’t even try it. Just come back.”
She frowned. “I am doing this to collect information. We should not waste the opportunity.”
“It took two of us to get this one out of the way,” he reminded her. “You won’t be able to move one on your own. And even if you could, where are you going to put it? I doubt there’s going to be a convenient shelf nearby waiting for you.”
“What if I can keep it above the brackets so that it does not fall?”
“Jar.”
She let out a breath. “Fine. If there is another fan, I will return.”
“And if you find yourself out of comm range?”
“I know what I am supposed to do.”
“Tell me.”
She grimaced. “I must always be in contact with you.”
“That’s correct, but you didn’t answer the question.”
“If I lose contact, it means I have not deployed enough signal relays. I will activate a new one. If that does not work, I am to move to a point where I am in contact again.”
“Also correct. Thank you.”
It
wasn’t that he didn’t think she could handle the task ahead. She’d already been in several dicey situations since she began working with the team. But it didn’t matter how much experience she had, Nate would always worry about her. She’d become like a sister. No, that wasn’t right. She’d become like a…something. He wasn’t ready to think about that yet.
He checked her harness one last time and helped her into the duct. Since the air passage was made of concrete, Jar was able to press against it. If the surface material remained the same, she should have no problems controlling her descent. As soon as her head was below the opening, he swung the hatch back down, the rounded bars now acting as a pulley of sorts for the rope, making it easier for Nate to lower her through the tube.
He leaned over the grating. “One click, everything’s okay. Two clicks, and we immediately haul you up.”
“I know,” she said. “We have already discussed this.”
Taking one hand off the rope, he placed it on the hatch. “Don’t you dare get hurt.”
“You know I cannot promise this,” she said, then in a very un-Jar-like move, she reached up and touched the tips of his fingers with hers. “But I will try not to.”
When she lowered her hand again, he let the rope slowly play through the bars.
He felt the sense of being watched on the side of his neck and glanced over at Orlando. She was indeed looking at him, one eyebrow raised.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I mean it. Don’t.”
She mimed zipping her lips shut, then returned her gaze to her computer, a wry smile on her lips.
After the bend in the duct, the passageway plunged into near total darkness, forcing Jar to turn on the flashlight attached to her harness.
She was not scared. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Nate’s concern for her had caused her to feel something, though. She didn’t know exactly what to call it. It was warm and comforting and yet angst-inducing at the same time.
The Unknown Page 24
